


Valentine

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gift Giving, Multi, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 09:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12701832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: Zevran is the type of guy who'll give his every friend a present for a romantic occasion





	Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first work for DA, for an exchange in which I neither received a piece in turn nor a reaction of the recipient of my work who did not give me an easy request to work with, so it's not really the work I feel most pride for. It never really made it off tumblr, but since I'm posting all my tumblr pieces to AO3 now I figured this one had to go too despite my feelings about it.  
> Even if it's uh.. November. Pre-Valentine goodness or something.

What was the worth of a day of love if not celebrated?  
Zevran was well aware his companions were not intending to pay the special date any mind. He doubted some of them knew about it at all, and others likely forgetting it among the heat of slicing up darkspawn. Such a waste, really, since his lovely companions all deserved all the love they could get.

Clearly, it was the duty of the Antivan to remind these dear people of the important things in life.

Leliana was, of course, the easiest, and also the one single person Zevran expected to have remembered. Her fine Orlesian upbringing must ’ve taught her all about the intricate games of love, and she was the only one he feared might actually outdo him. A present was easily found and bought, knowing her tastes well enough – a little spying and eavesdropping here and there had given him a plethora of good ideas – and his only hope was that she would accept it gracefully rather than trying to outplay him.

He found himself in luck on this lovely day.

The look of surprise on her face was most adorable, and the slight blush pinking her cheeks immediately after all the more.

“For me? Zevran, I had not expected such a thing.”

“A fair lady deserves a fair present, yes?” He barely managed to temper a smirk down to a smooth smile, but she seemed to fall for it – or at least she pretended to. Delicate hands unwrapped the soft present from the simple cloth Zevran had used, revealing the deep red handkerchief within. The silk was as soft as he had been able to find, and red as fresh spilled blood. A delicate white lace lines the hem with intricate little flowers. Truly, it was an object so luxurious and impractical, it couldn’t possibly be anything but Orlesian.

“This is _lovely_. ” She sounded slightly breathless, her praise almost reverent, and Zevran gave himself a mental pat on the shoulder for his success. 

“I am glad you approve.” He bowed slightly at the waist, before finally flashing her the smirk he’d been holding back. “Now please, my dearest Leliana. Try not to weep in your new handkerchief as I go on to give my next gift to another.”

Again that lovely surprised look, but then followed by a small, pleased giggle.

“Of course. Thank you, my dear. It means a lot to be reminded of such a silly day of love in such dark times. You are a treasure.”

And Zevran would kindly try not to blush himself as he quickly retreated, cursing inwardly for being outplayed after all.

...

The next could be either easier or more difficult. It was truly hard to predict, for he had put much thought in this gift and turned up with something utterly unromantic in order to suit their tastes. Now that might be a good or a bad thing as well. Probably a good thing.

At least Shale seemed appropriately surprised at the elf handing her a cloth-wrapped present.

“Now what am I supposed to do with this?”

“You unwrap it, of course.” He flashed the golem a bright grin, curling his fingers together behind his back as he rocked on the balls of his feet – both a sign of his curiosity and mild worry. As much as he loved to tease, this was meant to be an honest gift. He had yet to give up on teaching Shale the wonders of _life_ , of love and intimacy and all the great things that came with a ‘squishy body’.

Shale didn ’t seem to recognise his seriousness – how dare – and was rather hesitant about unwrapping the package.

“It is a stick? With a string?”

“Ah- it is more than that!” He held out his hand, accepting the item back from the confused golem. “See, this string has a rather lovely stretch to it, as well as the little pocket here. Now if you do this-” he leaned over, picking up a pebble from the floor and placing it in the thickened part of the catapult’s string. He pulled it back, aiming up and searching the sky for a few seconds before grinning. With a skill born from years of practice, he allowed the small catapult to launch the pebble. Shale turned to look where the pebble went, and made a soft sound of wonder at the same time they heard a startled screech that told them Zevran had hit his mark despite its distance.

“I’ll be honest and tell you it’s a children’s toy,” Zevran admitted, handing the handheld catapult back to the curious Shale. “When I was a little boy, I used to play with one of these whenever I had a free moment. It will take a lot of practice to get this sort of aim, but I’m sure you’ll find plenty of use to this.”

Shale just nodded in wonder, turning the item around and around in her large hands as Zevran offered her a bright grin.

“It is not very romantic, but I wished to give you a present you might actually enjoy. Perhaps we could go shoot at birds together some day, yes?”

“It seems determined to make me take a liking to ‘romance’ and ‘intimacy’,” Shale muttered, although clearly distracted. “It should not bother to keep doing so.”

“Of course,” Zevran grinned, slowly starting to back away. “I shall not point out how I just succeeded, yes?”

...

“Oghren, my favourite foul-smelling dwarf, I’ve got a present for you!”

“Huh?” If the look of blatant distrust wasn’t enough, then the slow step the dwarf took away from Zevran might’ve been. Holding the bottle hiding behind his back, the elf pressed one hand to his chest, feigning a hurt look.  
“Oghren, you wound me. You look like I’m about to hand you something that will explode in deep purple powder, which will slowly choke you while it paralyses your limbs to keep you from fleeing the fatal cloud!”

Unsurprisingly, that didn ’t help.

“Oghren my friend, I simply jest. I would never harm you. Who else would run straight into a horde of darkspawn to distract the beasts while I pick them out one by one from the back?”

“Alright... so what do you want?” The gruff voice still betrayed wariness, as well as a mild slurring telling Zevran their dwarf was more than a little drunk. Although to be honest, he had no idea why he even still bothered to _notice_ that, when it was merely the normal state of affairs when it came to Oghren.

“Did you know, today is the day of love my friend?”

“Wha?”

“The day of love!” He made a wide gesture with his free hand, which seemed to finally pull Oghren’s attention to the other one firmly held to his back. Ah, and a glimpse of curiosity in those beady eyes! Success!

“Today is the day lovers commit to one another. It is the day sweet girls confess to their crushes, and handsome men fall to their knee to propose. It is the day love is celebrated all over Thedas!” He paused for effect, and noted Oghren was once again looking wary. “Now considering we are all stuck here together with each other, I decided to give my dear friends each a present, since none of us will be able to seek out our beloved for a quick tryst.”

“Are you confessing to me, you sodding elf? I want nothing to do with it!”

“Oh, nothing of that nature, I assure you.” He chuckled, finally revealing the bottle he had been hiding behind his back. “I wouldn’t _dare_. Nevertheless I brought you something personal, which I hope you will be able to appreciate. I mixed together a special blend of alcoholic beverages – family recipe. It is astounding in its potency, so naturally it was the first thing I thought of when needing to find you a present. ”  
“Huh. That’s actually not too bad.” Oghren accepted the bottle with a mildly pleased look, and honestly Zevran wasn’t sure he had expected Oghren to fall for the ‘family recipe’ thing. It would be safe. At least for someone with Oghren’s resilience against alcohol.

“Ugh, I suppose I should thank you.”

“Oh no, no need, I was merely- what are you doing?” Zevran was taken aback when Oghren leaned forward to him, eyes squeezed shut and an overall disgusted grimace on his face as he offered pursed lips. Zevran recoiled with two quick steps, blinking in surprise and no small amount of disgust.

“A-haha, that is _quite_ unnecessary my friend! It was not a love confession, I assure you- ”

“But you said it _was_! ” Oghren now looked as scandalised as Zevran felt – thank the Maker.

“It was a token of our friendship!” He backed away a few more steps. “Please, go enjoy your drink. I have... other matters to attend to!”

...

After Oghren he needed a break. Someone to help him restore his sanity. And there was one particular companion of his who was very suitable for that.

Wynne saw him coming, of course, and he delighted in how her face twisted from suspicion to acceptance. Her present was one of the largest he had, and he was holding the soft item wrapped in a bright red cotton on both hands. Obviously he didn ’t have to tell her what he was here for.

“Even me?” she questioned, sounding stuck between wary and surprised.

“Of course, my beautiful Wynne. _Especially_ you! I am certain you must get many presents on this day each year, and now you are stuck here in a muddy camp with darkspawn blood still clinging to your boots. The least I can do is make up slightly for the loss of the attention you must miss out on today! ”

“And what makes you think an old lady as I still receives so much attention, hm?”

Zevran smirked wickedly, Wynne ’s expression immediately guarded again at his reaction.

“Ah, but you say ‘still’, do you not? You must’ve been quite the popular young lady back in the day, and in my experience such love does not wane easily. I have seen how some of the Circle Mages looked at you, my dear Wynne.”

“Ah, let’s just get this over with.” Her smile softened despite her exasperated tone, and Zevran’s lips quirked into a pleased little smile. With an almost reverent gesture he handed her the wrapped gift, studying her surprise as she felt how soft it was.

Wynne opened her mouth to ask about it, but Zevran retaliated before she could question him.  “Ah-ah! Just open it and see for yourself!”

She sighed, smiled in mild amusement and followed his order. Good, very good. He liked Wynne for a very good reason, after all. He knew she would never turn down a token of goodwill.

_ At least until she would realise what it was. _

Her first expression was curiosity, the second was confusion. She lifted the fabric from its wrappings, holding the bright satin garment out in front of her. As her grip on it loosened, it unfurled before her, stretching out for its full length until the bottom hem almost touched the floor.

A beautiful negligee, of the finest satin and lace Zevran had ever seen. Perhaps even finer than the silk handkerchief he had gifted Leliana. The front was cut out deeply, made to show off more than a little cleavage. In fact, judging the size of dear Wynne ’s bosom, it might come and roll out of the neckline altogether if she so much as lightly bent forward.

It was meant to reach the floor, a quiet hint to decency if not for the split running all the way up to hip height, making it fairly easy for any gentleman to intrude as he wished.

All in all a luxurious gift, fitting of the beautiful lady with the magical bosom.

Of course, his opinion on the matter did not save him from having the wrapping fabric thrown at his head and an angry voice chasing him off to find his next victim.

...

Unlike Wynne, Sten didn ’t see him coming. Of course, Zevran knew perfectly well that didn’t mean Sten didn’t  _ know _ . He just didn ’t turn to acknowledge the elf yet.

Zevran was sure he could sneak up on the qunari if he wanted, but that was not currently his intention. His intention was a gift-

Unfortunately, finding the blunt and gruff man a gift had turned out almost impossible. Sten didn ’t hold on to many personal possessions, and the only item he seemed to truly treasure was his sword.

But Zevran was sharp and he noticed everything. He also noticed the way Sten seemed pleased when the Warden once gave him what looked to be a small painting. Zevran had not been lucky enough to be able to steal a glance of what the painting was of before it was put away, but it was the best hint he had.

Of course, having no idea what Sten ’s taste in paintings really was, and being in search of a painting particularly suitable to celebrate love, he ended up with a gift he particularly liked himself, but could not be quite certain about for appreciation by the qunari.

Sten only acknowledged him when he delicately cleared his throat, turning to face Zevran with his usual disgruntled look. Zevran offered him a bright grin, and the wrapped present next.

“What’s this?”

“A present, of course! As I explained our dwarven friend before, it is a day to celebrate love. I brought all of you a present, to make up for the poor company.”

A quirk of his lips indicated that Sten at least appreciated the acknowledgement of how poor the company was, and without another word thick fingers unwrapped the fragile gift with a care that honestly surprised the rogue.

For a few long moments nothing happened. Sten stared at the painting in his hand, Zevran stared at the qunari ’s face in a vain attempt to read his expression. He was rewarded by another small twitch of the corner of his mouth, telling Zevran his gift was, in fact, appreciated.

And that was a surprise in itself, to be quite honest, considering what the painting depicted.

It was only as wide as Sten ’s hands both spread wide, and half the height. The picture depicted a landscape, perfectly innocent at first glance until one studied the details. The artist must’ve been as talented as he was perverted, managing to hide hints of naughty scenes in at least ten different spots across the landscape. Truly and ode to love, if one asked Zevran’s opinion.

“I thank you,” the qunari finally spoke. “It is a good gift.”

“I am glad it pleases you,” he responded, unable to hide all the wonder and surprise from his voice. Such a curious man this was.

...

“ _What_ is this? ”

“And here I thought a smart woman such as yourself would recognise flowers when she saw them.” Zevran pointedly waved the bouquet of deep red roses under her face, grinning brightly. “I went out of my way to get these for you, my dear Morrigan.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Ah, such bitterness in her voice. Didn’t she know she was only making the challenge more _fun_?

“I found I could only give you a present that would match your delicate beauty,” he hummed, pulling the bouquet back when she refused to take it. He cradled the bundle in his arms, rocking them like one would a child. “I felt I needed flowers and nothing less. Soft petals like velvet, circling and whirling and curling into an intricate pattern of beauty and chaos. Nothing would do except for roses.”

“Charming.” The dead-pan tone of her voice was a gift in itself, and Zevran had to suppress his need to smirk.

“Of course roses aren’t easy to find in Ferelden; not at this time of year. I hear they were imported from Orlais, just for the occasion.”

“What occasion? What are you going on about elf?”

“The day of love!” He thrust the bouquet forward, roses pressing against her chest and her arms came around to grab it by reflex. He grinned and stepped back, immediately folding his hands behind him so he would not be able to take his gift back this time. “Today we celebrate love, my dear! Today we celebrate the beauty of such lovely creatures as yourself, and nobody could deserve quite the same amount of praise!”

“Will you _ever_ stop this nonsense? ” She tried to give the roses back, but found him unwilling to accept them. Her brow furrowed into a deep scowl, and just for a second Zevran worried she might throw the flowers to the ground.

He let go of his held breath with a soft sigh in relief when she cradled the bouquet in one arm instead, rubbing one of the velvety petals between two fingers for a moment as she was visibly trying not to pout.

“Get out of my sight elf. Go suck up to someone else.”

“As you wish, lady Morrigan.” He bowed deeply before her, smirking proudly now with his success. “Always a pleasure~” 

...

“Alistair, I need to talk to you.”

He was given a suspicious look and Alistair crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  “Spit it out. It has something to do with why Wynne is angry and Shale is shooting pebbles into trees, right?”

“Very observant. Today is-”

“Today is the day of love, yes, I know. You’re not seriously planning to give me some terrible present as well, are you?”

“Alistair, you wound me! I do not give terrible presents!”

“You gave Wynne sexy underwear.”

“It is nightwear- Ah, you are a lost cause. Do not worry, I found a gift for you that you can’t possibly dislike. It is, without doubt, the best gift I offer to anyone today.”

The suspicion was still there, but Alistair was getting visibly curious now. He might even look a little flattered, but that could be just Zevran ’s imagination.

“Very well then... What is it?”

“Well, you see, that’s the problem. It was a gift I could not bring along last time we left Denerim. So instead, you will receive a... a ‘voucher’ as they called it. A giftcard, that will let you go get your present for free next time we visit Denerim.”

“You are kidding me... I have to go get my present _myself_? This is the best you ’ve got? A piece of paper that says where I can go pick up my gift so you don’t have to go through the trouble yourself?” Alistair was clearly upset, and Zevran pondered for a moment on how much he could reveal without the young man realising what exactly he had been given. Well, it was still in Zevran’s hand, but the paper itself didn’t hold much information to tip Alistair off. Just an address, a signature and a seal. Nothing to point out it was written by the owner of a brothel, giving Alistair one ‘free ride’, so to say.

“You are misunderstanding, my friend,” he tried to soothe, stepping a little closer to grab Alistair’s wrist. The man struggled against his grip for a second before allowing him to pull his arm forward, folding the paper into his hand. “It is simply a gift that can’t be taken along. It is not an object, but a... a service. Imagine a thorough cleaning of your armour, but better.”

The upset faded, replaced by a hint of the previous suspicion returning.  “What... what is that supposed to mean?”

“It is a surprise, Alistair! I can’t tell you now or the surprise would be spoiled. All I say is that I’m sure you will... _thoroughly_ enjoy it. ”

“Well... thank you, I guess?” Alistair studied the paper with only a remnant of suspicion, actually looking rather pleased by now. A small miracle; it seemed like he never learned.

“It was no problem, my friend. I will gladly share a bit of happiness with each and every one of you.”

That earned him another suspicious glance, but then a smile.

“You’re not so bad when you’re trying to be nice.”

“Naturally.” He grinned as he turned away, almost done giving out his presents.

...

Zevran saved the best for the last, of course. That meant he still had one more gift to give, and it was one that would be appreciated without doubt. No teasing, no guesses; simply a gift always appreciated by his partner in crime.

And said partner in crime saw him coming from a long way, of course. Or perhaps he should say he smelled the gift coming his way.

The moment the mabari leapt to his feet with an enthusiastic bark, ready to launch himself to the elf – slender and delicate and truly not all that resistant against heavy Ferelden dog – Zevran decided that just this time, he could throw his present rather than hand it over. It seemed like the safest option right now, even if he knew the mabari meant to harm.

He threw a little high, gasping in feigned shock to pretend he had not  _ meant _ to throw that high, but he shouldn ’t have worried. The dog practically flew up into the air to catch the large bone, landing firmly with all his feet back on the floor. He sometimes had the grace of a cat. A very big cat with a terrible breath and a rather impressive saliva production, but like a cat nevertheless.

The elf was rewarded with a grateful bark before the dog settled, the thick bone clenched between his front paws as he started to tear off the small remainders of meat, chew marks appearing in the hard bone on each bite, cracking sounds audible clearly from the distance at which Zevran stood.

This was of course, all the proof he needed that the mabari really was a dog and no cat. The raw strength in that jaw was frightening, and he was more than happy to have not been bitten the time he fought the Warden.

Speaking of whom, the Warden was his last destination.

He gave the dog a nod of acknowledgement – one that was returned by the sharp beast despite how occupied he was with his treat, and he turned to walk back to the tent in the middle of the camp. His hand slipped in his pocket, finding the golden hoop effortlessly. He toyed with it absentmindedly, smiling as he remembered the time he took it off his target.

“Are you in your tent, my friend? I have a present for you on this fine day.”


End file.
